Forever is Much too Long
by Mithxerra the MoonLily
Summary: Sometimes, it takes a special someone to help you see life as it should be seen, as something beautiful. OCJazz Pairing.  The beginning will be moviebased, but with a few twists.  Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

"You did amazing tonight."

I blushed and ducked my head at his praise; his compliments weren't a surprise or unexpected, but I am a girl and, I'll admit it on behalf of all women, we _**love**_ knowing that someone delights in us. It gets me every time.

"Awww, you're just partial; you have to say things like that." Yup, too bad that was the depressing truth. Tony was a good friend, but like most guys he had no idea what differentiates between a professional dancer and someone who just does it for fun.

"No, I'm serious!" he said, waving his hands for dramatic emphasis, "Mandy, you're like wonderful at those little… twirly things."

I stifled a giggle. "You mean pirouettes?"

"YEA! Yea, you look great when you're doing those…" Tony's brows wrinkled as he fought to regain the word, "…parachute thingies." I elbowed his arm playfully in mock indignation and he chuckled.

Thoughtfully, I rubbed the black satin of my worn ballet slipper. "Really though, you know you don't have to come to all my shows. It's not exactly 4-star entertainment." Dancing was something I had started my Senior year of high school; it had been a way of releasing the emotional stress I built up worrying about graduating and going off to college. I guess you could call me a hometown girl; growing up and losing all my friends to the great unknown didn't really appeal to me. When I was dancing everything just seemed like it was going to be ok. I could lose myself in the beat of the music and get rid of all my pent-up energy.

I've never taken a class in my life. I tried to once; the brunette goddess who taught at Rietta's School of Dance looked down her aristocratic nose at me, and all she had to say was, "You do not have the body to be a dancer." Suddenly I felt like a clumsy lout next to her perfectly proportioned limbs and beautiful body. I was tan from working on the farm; she was fair. My 4'11" stature looked like a miniature beside her 5'7" physique. Heck, even my legs made me feel like I should reconsider and do soccer, instead. I think I may have staid a grand total of 2 minutes before high-tailing it out of there with what remained of my dignity and pride.

"Well, that might be true about the 4-stars and all, but you girls are the only real live entertainment in town." By girls, Tony meant my three best friends from college. They had taken me under their wing while at the university, all of us forming a camaraderie around the subject of dance. They had taught me numerous styles, but the one I preferred was a mixture of hip-hop and ballet. When we graduated, the quartet stuck together, everyone driving about an hour to meet every Thursday night for dance practice and girl time. Every once in a while, we would coordinate a show and put it on down at Ethel's Pub in my town. Ethel was a nice lady; she had an old, wooden floor that she would close off for us on performance nights. They weren't anything spectacular but we always had fun putting them on and we gathered quite a crowd some nights. But, it is a small town; not much ever goes on.

Tony was our biggest fan. He never missed a show; he would take off work or get one of his buddies to cover for him. It was kind of nice to know how faithful he was; I mean, my parents hadn't made it to even one of our shows, and they only lived 15 minutes away. We weren't at odds or anything; they just didn't see it as too important. They were like the aggressive soccer moms and dads people like to joke about. If there was anything competitive I was involved in when I was younger, including who could raise more money from the brownie bake sale, you could count on them being there to cheer their little princess on. But, when I tried to explain to them that dancing was something I did for me, for fun, they just decided it wasn't critical to my life since I wasn't trying to be better than someone else.

Tony, though… loyal Tony couldn't be persuaded that **anything** in my life was trivial. I guess that's just how your mind works when you're in love.

I met Tony when I was twenty-three, a year after finishing college. I was a full-time waitress at a small café in the center of town; the money wasn't very good, but I was living for free with Miss Patty, the oldest woman alive. Just kidding.

Miss Patty is the well-respected widow of an Army general who died about 12 years ago (he actually was a 4-star!); she lived by herself for a long time and everyone worried about her not having any help. What if she was hurt and couldn't get to a phone? Eventually, she got tired of having everyone on her back and asked me if I wouldn't mind living with her while I was home, that way she wouldn't be alone and someone could regularly check in on her. I'm not sure what everyone was so worried about; Patty had visitors every day anyway. All the womenfolk came over for tea and cookies, and she was the town Grandma to all the kids; that's how much everyone loves her. But, I can't really complain since it's such a nice setup for me.

But anyways, I was the single waitress waiting for a bit of excitement to enter my life, and, one summer morning, Tony walked into the café wearing his new, blue uniform and sparkling, golden police badge. He was the rookie on the squad just in from Chicago and his new patrol buddies were showing him the sites around town. It wasn't love at first sight, for me or him. I think it took him to the 2nd time I filled up his coffee cup to notice me, and that was only because Officer Riley introduced us. The men were regulars so we were all on a first name basis; it's true, policemen love their coffee and doughnuts!

It wasn't until Tony's 4th trip to the café, a total of seven cups of coffee, three glazed doughnuts, and a banana-walnut muffin later, that he started to fall….hard. For me, at first he seemed like a dream guy; he had lots of good points. For one thing, I've always found men who risk their lives and sacrifice their safety for the wellbeing of others to be extremely attractive. Secondly, he made me feel safe; 'cause hey, if anyone ever tried to hurt me, Tony had guns, man! And he knew how to use them. He was also three years older than me which added a bit of excitement to the prospect; it was like the nobody freshman girl winning the star quarterback on the Varsity football team.

In the end, I knew that I was only considering a relationship with Tony because I was bored and it would fun and something new to add to the tedious conundrum of my life. Still, Tony had fallen in love. And eventually, so did I… just not in the way he wanted or with whom either of us had planned. Yes, it was the little golden haired angel that was buckled securely into a "Hello Kitty" car-seat in the back of his swat car who held my heart.

Delilah. The little miracle who was created by an "oopsy-daisy" one-night-stand when Tony was twenty-four. The woman, whoever she was, never got back in touch with Tony when she found out she was pregnant. In fact, Tony didn't even know about Delilah until he got a call from the hospital one night saying that his daughter was in an incubator and the child's mother was dead. He had no idea what was going on until the nurse asked him to identify the woman's body. Her name was Tiffany; that was all he knew. No last name. No address. Just Tiffany. The first and last "random woman at a party" that he would ever hook up with.

Apparently, Tiffany was bigtime into alcohol and drugs, even during the pregnancy. When she was eight months pregnant she overdosed on drugs, and it was her roommate that rushed her to the hospital. She died that night but thankfully the doctors managed to save the preemie baby. Tony's name had been on a form from one of Tiffany's previous hospital visits for check-ups. Needless to say, if Tony had been a wild and crazy young man, parenthood sobered him up right quick. He managed to finish his police training and was sent down here when he was twenty-six.

Tony used to say how much he regretted that night with Tiffany. He said it had been stupidity. Stupidity and hormones and selfishness. One time he even asked me if I thought Tiffany had overdosed because she was overwhelmed and felt like there was no one beside her to help. But then, he would look down at Delilah and smile. He'd say that he just couldn't imagine his life without her; that he couldn't survive without her. Lily had to be the most adorable kid in the world. She knew it, too, 'cause boy could she work it. At four-years-old she could definitely break her daddy's heart…. Every. Single. Day.

Even standing outside in the chilly night air, just looking at her sleeping form made me feel all warm inside. "Can I still take her out on Thursday, Tony? It's my day off, so I won't mind watching her."

He followed my gaze down to the snoozing toddler and nodded. I knew he was slightly jealous of the fact that I liked to spend so much time with Lily, but then it did give him a reason for us to be together on occasion.

He gave a tight smile, "I don't know what you two do together, but I can never get her to calm down after a day with you…"

I laughed and patted his arm where he was leaning up against my car, "It's because we have girl time; something you definitely wouldn't understand even in your wildest dreams!"

"That's for sure," he snorted, "Well, who am I to say no to 'girl time'?!"

"Good. Then it's a date." I opened his back door and bent down to kiss Lily's cheek softly. When I leaned back up and shut the door, Tony was regarding me with a strangely intent look on his face. Any thoughts of a romantic relationship between Tony and I were long dead to me, but I knew it was different for him. Supposedly, we had both talked it out two years ago and it should have been water under the bridge, but it wasn't.

I hated how we couldn't be just friends and he simply let me help provide the woman's presence that Lily needed in her life; somehow, Tony always managed to make it known that he wasn't satisfied with our relationship. It made things awkward.

"What?" I asked for lack of a better ice-breaker.

It surprised me when he reached up to brush an imaginary strand of hair away from my face. "She loves you, you know?" His voice was gentle.

I knew what he wanted to say was "I" instead of "She", but he got the point across anyway. I nervously swallowed, "Yea… I know, Tony."

The darned man stood there until I finally cracked under the pressure. "Look, it's really late and I've got to open tomorrow morning. I'll see you around, ok?"

He frowned and stepped towards his car. "Sure."

Sliding into the driver's seat of my truck, I placed my belongings in shotgun. I flinched when I heard Tony slam his door. I pretended to fiddle with my purse until I knew he had driven away. Tossing the brown bag to the other seat, I sighed. Why was life so hard? I put the keys in the ignition and attempted to rev my car to life. After three attempts, and still no luck, I screamed and hit my head on the horn causing an unharmonious honk to reverberate across the near empty parking lot. The hunk of junk had quit on me three times this month. Why did life have to suck? Growling, I stumbled out of the car and stomped back into the pub.

Ethel and a few late owls were hanging out at the bar, eyes glued to the television set. It wouldn't have fazed me except that Ethel was chewing nervously on her bottom lip.

"What's wrong, Ethel?" The buxom redhead didn't appear to notice me right away.

"Oh Darlin', I don't really know. There's strange talk of meteors coming down and hitting all over in this area. Makes me wonder if my house is still standing…," she finally replied without turning her eyes from the tv.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure your house is fine. Besides, I doubt it was really meteors; probably just some of the neighbor kids playing a prank. You know, like the crop circles last year, and all the disappearing chickens the year before that? They probably used a bunch of firecrackers or something like that. Man, those kids are getting really creative."

"Now I'm serious, Mandy; it's being blasted all over the news!"

"Yea, so were the crop circles and the chickens. So what? Hey, can I use your phone?"

"Sorry, hon, but the lines are down."

The lines were down? She finally looked over her shoulder at me. "Why are you still here? I thought you left a few minutes ago? Do you need something?" I thought about asking her for a ride, but didn't really want to trouble her. Losing business wasn't something that sat well with Ethel Lynch.

"Naahh, ummm, I guess I'll just be going."

"Alright, Mandy. Now you be sure to say hi to Miss Patty for me!"

"Sure thing, Ethel. Thanks for letting us use the floor!" I said before walking back outside. It was getting darker, and I wasn't very comfortable with the prospect of walking home all alone. I almost went back inside for Ethel.

"Keep it together, Mandy; it's only a few blocks from here. Everything's fine."

I tried humming music for a little while, but my voice sounded flat and alien in the quiet of the night. So, I tried to think of what could be wrong with my car, but that only last for about half a block because I didn't know anything about machinery. I was about halfway home when I heard a low rumbling noise; the ground beneath me began to shake. I stepped off the curb and into the street, wildly looking around for where the sound originated. The creaking of the traffic lights as they swung back and forth caught me off guard and I screeched in fright.

Everything seemed to be quaking and my stomach lurched as I lost balance and fell to the pavement. And then, on the horizon, I saw it. A blazing ball of glory heading straight towards me, dropped from the heavens. The thunder was getting louder each second and as I curled up in the fetal position and covered my ears, I prayed to God that it wouldn't kill me.

The vibrations grew murderous and for a second the whole world seemed to turn orange, then white; I couldn't even hear anything except for the sound of my own breathing. And then everything was back to normal. I took a sharp glance behind me just in time to see the gigantic orb disappear behind some trees, still traveling on its way east and out of town.

Shakily, I got to my knees as people started poking their heads out of doors and calling out to their neighbors to see if everyone was alright.

"You ok, Mandy?!" Mr. Jones called out, concerned.

"Yes, sir. I think so, anyway…"

The older gentleman slapped his thigh and let out a whistle. "I'll bet you any amount 'o money that it was one of them fancy Russian, guided missiles! I never heard such a ruckus in all my years! The dog went and dove right under the sofa!"

I could hear someone a few houses down, "Don't you watch the tube, Jones? It's a meteor shower! Shoot, I thought it'd take out the entire state…"

I rolled my eyes, still a little shaken, and brushed off my pants. It had all felt so real. But seriously, meteors? Around here? This kind of stuff never happens. Still, the sounds, the shaking, the fire… wow, those kids were getting pretty creative.

I could just imagine them sneaking around at night for the past week, setting up the world's longest zip-line across town, hiding stereos all down the road with the volume turned way up, buying one of those super-ginormous beachballs from the store, pouring lighter fluid on it, putting a match to it, and then shooting it cross Cottage Grove. It was something new every year. Some people just don't grow up.

Still, it had scared me silly, and I definitely walked a bit faster the rest of the way home.

And yet… how in the world had they gotten everything to shake?

A/N: Hey peoples, so this is gonna be more movie-verse than from the tv show. I have a lot planned out for the middle part, but I still haven't figured out a good way for Mandy to meet Jazz. I'm new at this writing thing, so any suggestions on how that should happen??


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: So, ya'll might be wondering where exactly some of the parts of the story are going after reading this chapter, but trust me, I never put something in that doesn't have a point for later. Thank you for everyone who reviewed and put this story on their alert list; it made my day!! Feel free to comment on things you don't like, though; otherwise, I won't get better.**_

_**Candle-rain-chan: Thank you for the suggestion; it actually did help me alot, even though I did not quite use the topic the way you meant. It did get me on a train of thought that brought me to what I thought was a good idea, and by the end of the 4th chapter, I hope you'll be happy with the outcome :) **_

_**Alicyn Wonderland: Thank you to you, too. The "random moments" idea will be used as well. Hope you enjoy**_

_Mandy, _

_I heard you come in pretty late last night; I hope things went well down at Ethel's! I know you have an early morning since you have to open, but there is some milk and sugar in the pan on the stove for you to heat up; I know how you don't like breakfast, but no one leaves this house without something in their stomach!_

_Have a good day, Sugar. Love, Patty_

Aaaawww… Patty thought of everything. Such a sweetie. It was nice to know that someone cared.

True enough, the contents of the letter were on the stove waiting for me; as I waited for the milk to heat up, I tried to blink myself awake. It was 5:45a.m., and I'd been up since 5:00 getting ready for work. I had been in a pretty sour mood having to wake up a half-hour early on account that I had to walk to work because of that dumb pick-up. Pouring the steaming milk into a green travel mug, I wondered who I could call to go tow the hunk of metal to a mechanic. The police had a tow-truck down at the station; maybe Tony could-

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car horn outside the house. "Now who is that at this time in the morning?"

I slipped on my white keds, grabbed my warm milk, and quietly padded to the front door so as not to wake up Patty. The door creaked open and I peered out; the sun was beginning to rise, casting an orange hue about the world. It was a little disturbing to see a cop car in my driveway, but, when the window rolled down and Tony poked his head out, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Need a ride?" he called out.

I smiled, it looked like I wouldn't have to walk after all. "You bet!" I said, coming out and closing the door softly behind me. I jogged down the walkway and slid into shotgun.

"How'd you know?"

Tony put the car in reverse and backed out onto the street. "Well, I got a call from Ethel pretty late last night; she said your truck was still in the parking lot all by itself when she closed. I figured it had konked out on you again, so I dropped by on my rounds."

I pulled the seatbelt down over my shoulder, "Thanks, Tony. You're a life saver!"

"Not a problem."

The inside of his car was pretty cool; there was a hand-held radio set, a pair of walkie-talkies, and I couldn't help but notice the black, iron grid behind my headrest, separating the backseat from the front seat.

"Woooowww, so that's where you put people who go to the slammer, huh?"

Tony snorted, "Yea, supposedly." He sounded disappointed, and at my inquisitive look he explained himself. "Well, I've actually never had to… well…use it."

"Really? Not even once?" I tried to sound shocked, but I wasn't surprised. Except for a few drunk teenagers, sometimes a bit of teenage vandalism, and, again, a few teenage speeding tickets, there wasn't much for the cops to do. That's why they also worked as the town firemen, **and **they even had an old ambulance which they used to rush any townsfolk up to the hospital in Falls Ridge.

Tony seemed a little disheartened at the fact, so I tried to change the topic and cheer him up. The radio was tuned in to some crackly station, and I decided we needed a little music.

"Don't touch that," was all he said when I reached for the radio dial.

"Why not?"

"I need it on that particular station; it's the radio wave our squad communicates on."

I folded my hands in my lap for a few seconds, but that noise coming through the speakers grated on my nerves. I just couldn't stand it; did he listen to this every day?

"Mandy, no," he said, as I reached for the tuner a second time.

"Awww, come on, Tony! No one is even talking on this thing; it'll only be for a few minutes," I smiled sweetly up at him and blinked rapidly several times.

He looked over at me and the corners of his mouth twitched, but he held his ground. Or tried to, anyway. "Sorry, Mandy."

My hand continued on its path. "Mandy, I said 'no'." It kept going. "Mandy, don't you dare."

I giggled like a delighted child, "Uh-oh, Tony, it's almost there!!"

"Mand-"

Click.

"…YG radio giving you the best Oldies from the 60's, 70's, and 80's. This is the morning show with Sheila Retkin," the radio blasted to life.

"Mandy!" Tony scolded and slapped my hand.

I grabbed his wrist before he could change it, "Watch it! Two hands on the wheel at all times, Mr. State Trooper, or I could have you on charges for reckless endangerment!"

He laughed at my serious face, and I let go of his arm once he promised not to change the channel.

"Amanda, you sure are somethin' else."

I waved the comment off as a familiar tune by Bryan Adams filled the car, "Oh, I love this song!" Clenching my hand into a fist, I belted out the first verse in a truly dramatic style.

"_I got my first real six-string  
Bought it at the five-and-dime  
Played it 'til my fingers bled  
It was the summer of '69._"_  
_  
I could tell he was having a hard time not laughing, especially in the parts where I forgot the words and made up something different. He shook his head in embarrassment, "Ya know, I look at you and think, 'Man, God is really creative… that or one of the more mischievous angels thought it would be funny to send you down her before He was finished'." Tony ducked away from a slap aimed for the back of his head. Oh well, it was time for my Shining Moment… the Chorus.

"_Oh when I look back now  
That summer seemed to last forever,  
And if I had the choice  
Ya - I'd always wanna be there  
Those were the best days of my life._"

"Seriously, you do know that you're twenty-six, right?" he asked sarcastically.

"That's what it says on my birth certificate!"

"Please, fix your truck soon. Better yet, get a new one so I never have to go through this torture ever again!"

I thought about it for a moment; I had never had any other car. My dad gave me Big Red when I was in high school, so I didn't really have firsthand experience in car shopping. "How do you buy a new car?"

He pulled the car to a stop at the red traffic light and looked over at me, "Well, what kind of car do you want?"

I was about to say "Something really big!" when I heard a revved up engine down the road. Glancing to my right, I almost missed the speedy, silver Porsche as it whipped through the 4-way intersection, continuing on its journey west down Main Street. Had I blinked, I just might've missed it.

"Oh, Tony, I want that one," I said in awe, pointing after the retreating cruiser.

"Yea, me, too. Sorry, but I need you to get out of the car!" Tony was unbuckling my seatbelt.

"What are you doing?!"

He leaned across my lap and yanked on my door handle, pushing it open as the latch unhinged. "Mandy, that guy was going like 65mph down this road; it's only 25! I gotta go after him, and it's against regulations for you to be in the car when I do; now GO!"

"OOOH!" I squealed in shocked understanding. The sirens coming from behind surprised me, and we both turned to watch another police car, lights blaring, speed through the intersection and after the offensive vehicle.

Rushing out of the car, I looked back at Tony, "Looks like somebody beat you to him."

Tony seemed confused. "Maybe, but that cop definitely isn't from here. He's got a black and white car; we have brown and gold. He's gonna need my help because he doesn't have any jurisdiction in Cottage Grove; he can't place the guy under arrest for resisting a law officer, **or** even give him a simple ticket for speeding!"

"Antonio Rocamontes, make me proud!"

I slammed the door shut and backed off as Tony made a sharp left turn and peeled off after the disappearing police car. As he drove away, I could see him talking into his radio hand-set before looking over his shoulder and giving me the thumbs-up. Quickly, his lights vanished over the hilltop, too.

Good. Tony needed a bit of excitement. Chicago had been like the Devil's Lair; there had never been a lack of crime up there. Three years of peace and quiet in the Grove had gotten him restless. Yes, this would be good for him.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

I glanced up at the clean-shaven, middle-aged man sitting at the counter. Smiling, "Sure, Joe. What's up?"

"Why are you still here?"

I paused in wiping the black countertop. "Huh? It's only….mmm…6:37 in the morning. Work just started."

He swallowed a gulp of coffee and waggled his hand, "I didn't mean that. I meant… well, why are you still here…in Cottage Grove?"

I let out a short puff of laughter. "I thought you liked me, Joe!"

Joe crossed his arms and leaned back on the barstool; it gave me a full view of the navy blue badge sewed onto the upper right sleeve of his brown leather jacket. On the badge in bold golden letters read, "Capt. Joseph Riley: Proud Sheriff of Cottage Grove." His men had given it to him for a birthday gift.

"The Grove isn't a good place for a lively young girl such as yourself."

"Joe, the Grove is my home; I grew up here," my face scrunched up, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Alright, then," he leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the countertop, "let me ask you something else. What are you **doing** here? What is your purpose in life that you feel so compelled to stick around? What is it that keeps you here?"

It appeared he expected an answer. And for whatever reason, I couldn't think of one.

"Mandy, I'm not saying **I** **want** you to go. I just can't figure out why **you want** to stay."

When I woke up this morning, this conversation wasn't in my planner. I still couldn't think of a response.

"What are you trying to get at, Joe?" I felt needled, pushed, bullied for some reason. Joe and I had always talked about stuff together; after all, he came in every morning for his 6:30 coffee so there was always time to converse. But, we had always kept to light topics, not philosophical ones.

I think he could tell my attitude had shifted and he held up his hands in defense. "Now, Mandy, just listen to me. I've got a piece I'd like to say if you'd only be willing to listen."

It was a request, not an attack.

"Yea, ok." I put the washrag down by the sink and cocked my hip against the side of the counter.

"Alright, first things first. I want you to name me some friends you have here in the Grove."

"That's easy. There's you and Larry and Tony and Patty and Susan an-"

"Only friends that are about your age, Mandy."

That was a little harder. "Well, Tony, Dave and Bobbi Peters, Sean and Linette Jensen, and there's…" I rattled off a list of names.

Joe looked satisfied about something. "Good. Now, besides you and Tony and Jacob Finch, what do all those other people have in common?"

I didn't appreciate where this conversation was going.

"They're all married."

"And?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off the coming headache. "And they have kids."

"That's right."

"Are you trying to imply something about Tony and me?" I asked in irritation.

"Nope, not even close. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I would disapprove of it if you two ever did decide to get married, but since you brought up the subject… What would you do if Tony ever did get married to someone else?"

My eyes snapped fire, "Who?"

"I didn't say there was anyone; I said, 'what if?'."

"Oh," my body relaxed, and I dismissed his comment with a flick of my wrist. "That would never happen."

"Why? Because he thinks he's in love with you?"

On the defense, again, "Tony's not supposed to be with anyone!"

Whoa, where'd that come from? That sounded pretty territorial… and Joe had heard it, too.

His head cocked to one side, "Not supposed to?"

I dug my fingers through my hair and huffed in frustration. "It's just that he's always liked me. I mean… it's just… it's always been that way!" Things like that don't just change, do they?

"What if you were out of the picture?"

"Huh?"

"I don't want you blabbin' this all over or even talking to Tony about it, but," Joe took another sip of his lukewarm coffee and was quiet for a moment or two, "I sent in a letter of recommendation for Tony to be relocated at another police force on the Eastern Coast."

My jaw dropped, "You what?"

"Tony is a good cop, or would be if he had the chance. Mandy, you probably don't understand, but he's wilting…"

It was scandalous! He couldn't just send Tony somewhere else, and what about Lily? Who would be there for her if I wasn't? "How could you do that?" my eyes narrowed in accusation.

Joe seemed sad, "Let me tell you a little about this place. People come here when they want to get away; whether they're running from factory pollution, large crowds, highways, or just to get some peace and quiet, we always have a slow trickle of new folks coming here to live in a safe, old-style environment. Most of them are elderly couples who want to find rest in their last years of life, but then there are the young couples who move in so that their kids can grow up in a secure place.

"And it's safe, all right; down to the point where nothing **ever** happens. It's like life turns into… well… going through the motions. That's why the kids grow up and run far far away from here, as if the devil was chasin' them. I hate to say it, but the Grove just tends to suck the life out of people. And that's why I had to give Tony the chance; he wants more out of life than becoming an old mush of a man in this boring place. Of course, the final say will be his; I'm not going to force him away."

"You're wrong. I came back; I could have left, but I chose to come back."

"Which brings me back to my original question. You are the only kid to have ever come back after college. Why? Why don't you just get in your car and drive out of here? Maybe, you don't even have to leave for good, but go on a long vacation and just see something of the world. Perhaps then, you might decide you like life out there," Joe offered.

"I could do that anytime I wanted, Joe." Lies.

"So, what's stopping you?"

"Nothing's stopping me." Again, a lie.

"You sure it's not the same thing that kept you from taking that big scholarship to that Ivy League School? And that made you go to a college that was only 45 minutes from your parents? Or how you could have had a great job in the bigger cities, but you took this one as a waitress? And the same thing that has kept you being a waitress, doing the same thing every day for the past five years?"

"And what would 'IT' be?"

Joe looked me square in the eye, "Mandy, you're afraid."

"I'm not afraid." Strike three.

"Rosemary and I were talking about last night at dinner, and you know what she said? She said that you would make a great mother when you got around to it."

A soft smile spread over my lips, "Someday I will."

Joe's face went hard, "When, Mandy? Why are you waiting around here for something to happen and change your life? One day you are going to wake and realize that you wasted everything just by waiting. There's nothing for you here…"

"Look, Joe," I said, bracing myself against the counter. "Someday I will meet someone, and we will fall in love, and he'll take me out of here."

"You already had that option, and you shot it out of the sky, remember? Seriously, you think it'll happen the same way again? You can't keep hoping on some far off future," My eyes strayed from his to the glass doors, where several high schoolers were coming in to get some doughnuts before going to class. "You've gotta think about the here and now."

I grabbed a warm pot of coffee of the burner and walked out from behind the kitchen area. "Now doesn't exist, Joe. Excuse me, I have some customers." I left Joe sitting there and headed over for the gaggle of kids.

"I never thought I'd say this, but thanks, Jake. You came not a moment to soon" I said to the brown headed boy sitting in between his friends.

He smiled, confused, "Sure thing, I guess."

"By the way, that stunt you all pulled last night with the whole "falling meteor thingy" was spectacular! You need to tell me how you did it; I want to see how much of my theory was correct," I said jokingly.

"You thought we did all that? Oh no, Mandy, that was the real live thing!" The boy exclaimed.

"Yea, sure, ok."

"No, I'm serious, we had nothing to do with it! I promise." I could tell he was being serious.

Eileen clapped her hands excitedly, "And did you hear how they found one and it looked like it was made out of metal? And that there was a cut-out hole inside it, where they thought someone could have been inside, and then climbed out when it came to Earth!?"

All the kids got really animated and started squalling about how they heard that aliens had landed in the midst of the meteors and other such talk. However, my attention had gone back to Joe when I heard his radio start beeping.

"Riley here," he answered. Through the radio's static and over the children's chattering, I picked out several words of the answering message. I heard "This…Larry…accident down near… car is in bad shape… get over here."

Joe's body went rigid and his voice was troubled as he turned his back away from me and the other kids, who had all quieted down and were trying to listen in on his call, too.

"Is he alive?"

Larry's answer came over the radio crystal clear this time. "Can't tell. He's not moving at all. Joe, get down here now."

I whirled around to the kids, "Which of your friends drive?" Joe was already gathering his things to leave the café.

Eileen started crying, "Sean does."

"What's the matter?"

"He told me he was going to skip school today, and go down to spend the day at the lake."

Crap. Sean had a lead foot when it came to driving; he was the one I had in mind when I mentioned teenage speeding tickets.

"Does anyone have his number?"

Jake jumped out of seat, cell-phone in hand, "Yea, I'll see if I can get a hold of him." He almost bulldozed two men in suits who were entering the front doors as he tried getting outside. Joe was already out the door; I desperately wanted to ask him if it was one of the children, but one of the men stepped in my way.

"Could we get some breakfast?"

"Yes, sir, I'll be with you in a minute," I said trying to push past them with the coffee pot still clutched in my hand.

"Miss, I don't mean to be rude, but we can't stay very long. We're just waiting for the road to clear. There's an accident up by Rt. 7, and it's blocking our way to work."

I stopped in my tracks. "You saw it? Could you see who was hurt? There's a kid we know who was going up that way; he's got a green SUV. Was it that kind of car?"

The shorter of the two men waved his hand, "Oh don't worry, ma'am; I didn't get a good look at it, but it was a smaller vehicle." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Actually, it was brown and had some gold lettering on the side; I couldn't really tell, but it looked an awful lot like a police car."

Glass and coffee splattered everywhere. The room was spinning.

Tony.

I slammed my way through the two men and shoved Jake out of the way as he was coming back in the door. "It's ok, Mandy," he called to me, "I just got a hold of Sean; he hadn't even left his house, yet!"

Joe was shutting his car door and turning on his flashing lights when I sprinted across the road and grabbed hold of his open window. "Joe, take me with you!"

He locked the car doors and ripped my hands off of the window, "I can't do that, Mandy. Go back inside."

"Open the doors, Joe, please! Please! Please!" I cried, tears blurring my vision.

His face was stern and held no compliance. "I don't want you to see this."

"I have to go with you!" I latched onto the window, again, and started yanking hysterically at the car handle. "Why are you doing this?! Stop it, Joe! What happened to Tony? Is he alive?!"

Joe reached out the window a final time, tearing my hand away and shoving me backwards. The back of my heel hit the curb, and I stumbled to the ground. His face was ashen as he spoke to me, his words spoken so softly I had to strain to catch them. "I don't know, Mandy; he's not answering them, and, from the way the vehicle is laying, they can only see some of his shoulder and arm. The car is crushed. No, it's mangled."

I couldn't move as he turned on the sirens and sped off. Vaguely, I could hear the kids talking together and someone calling to me. "Ma'am?" It said.

I drew my legs up to my chest and slowly rocked back and forth. I could still picture him looking over his shoulder and giving me the thumbs-up.

Tony…


	3. Chapter 3

_**The following day. 2:17 a.m., Tuesday.**_

The phone receiver was clutched tightly in my white-knuckled fist; my head rested in the open palm of my other hand as I bowed over the kitchen table. A lone tear escaped my eyes when the sound of labored breathing came over the phone line. This shouldn't have happened…

"Mandy…" Tony's voice was laced in pain.

"I'm here…"

"Nurse said you called, and Lily was at your place with you. Is that right? She ok?"

"Yea, she's in the other room watching "Bugs Bunny" on tv." Here he was, just out of coma and in a hospital, and the first thing on his mind was his little girl…

It was a miracle he was still alive. Nobody knew what had happened; Sgt. Larry Cant had been at the station when Tony had called in the car chase, and when Larry had asked if he needed back-up, Tony had said there was no need because the other policeman was there. That should have been more than enough for a simple speeding ticket. That had been around 6:04.

By 6:11, Tony had radioed in a 2nd time to confirm that he had caught up with the two vehicles, but that the unknown cop was not hailing any of Tony's calls.

At 6:23, Larry got worried because Tony hadn't gotten back in touch, and he tried calling him up. The only answer Larry received was static. Just as he was heading out the door in search of Tony at 6:26, the phone rang. It was some woman calling in an accident; there was a flipped over, smashed-up, cop car in the middle of the road blocking up traffic.

According to Larry, the scene of the accident was more bashed up than Tony's body turned out to be. The pavement was cracked in some areas, crushed in others, and there were even chunks of blacktop that had been wrenched from the ground. The median was pretty torn up, too. And then, there was the actual car itself which, from the pictures, looked like it had been stuck in a paper shredder, trunk first, and then pulled out halfway only to have its front half bent upwards and its roof crunched down. It had taken them a good while to cut Tony out, all the while thinking he was dead; turned out he was unconscious, and that's why he couldn't answer when they tried talking to him.

Once Joe knew that Tony would live, he took me over to see him at the hospital, but Tony still hadn't been awake, yet. He had a cut that was laying on top of a huge, purple bruise above his left eye, various cuts and scratches from glass on his face, neck, and arms, three broken fingers, a few cracked ribs, a concussion, and God's hand on his life.

Like I said, we didn't know what had happened, and I was the only witness (besides Tony) to the fact that there actually **was** a silver Porsche and an out-of-town law officer. There were a lot of theories running around, but the only thing that made sense was that the fancy sportscar had done a few nifty moves, maybe even hit Tony's car, and had caused Tony to spin out. A really, really bad spin-out.

"Lily should be in bed now; it's too late for her to be up."

"I couldn't get her to fall asleep; she was too worried about you. We both were…"

Silence.

"When did you wake up, Tony?"

" 'Bout twenty minutes ago."

I frowned, "You should be the one getting rest. Have you called Joe, yet?"

"No. I'm sure he'll be by in the morning; I'll talk to him then when my head is clearer."

That awkward silence, again.

"Tony… what happened out there?"

A pause, and then I heard him sigh, "Maybe I'll remember come morning."

"You can't remember anything about the crash? Not even what was going on just before it happened?"

He snorted, "Oh, I can remember **something**, all right, but it couldn't be what really occurred. They tell me I have a concussion; they say it can cause you to think weird stuff happened, when it didn't really."

"Well, just tell me what you think you saw."

"Mandy, you'd think I was crazy…. Heck, I think I might be crazy."

"Why don't you just let me decide for myself? Go on, I'm listening."

Tony's voice sounded disturbed and strangely unattached when he spoke, like it was someone else's memory and not his own, "After I left you, it took me a few minutes to catch up with them. I tried to radio-contact the other cop, but he wouldn't respond to me, and the Pontiac wouldn't pull over, either. I stuck with them for a couple of minutes; there were times when the cop would swerve towards my car, almost as if he was trying to run **me** off the road.

"And then, this… voice… came over the radio, but it wasn't like anyone I've ever heard. It was really loud and deep, and almost like it was yelling, but not quite. It didn't sound human; it was more like a barbled, computer system. I can't explain it very well. Any way, it said, 'Human, stand down, or you will be destroyed.'"

Oh yea, he had hit his head.

"I couldn't answer back, though; the connection had been cut. I pulled even with the cop and tried to get his attention, but he wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. And then his window rolled down and…"

"And?"

"…and these little, metal disks with razor edges came flying out of his car and peppered my passenger window."

"You mean to tell me that the **cop** attacked you?! You sure the knives didn't come from the Porsche?"

"They definitely came from the front window, driver's side, of the police car."

He was right; that wouldn't happen. Cops just don't try to take out other cops. "Then what happened?"

"I rammed into the side of his car and lost control of the steering wheel. That's pretty much all…" he trailed off.

He was lying; Tony had never been a good liar. "That's not all, is it? Tony, just tell me! I'm not going to think any less of you."

"…It's just that… something else… came out of his window, right before I hit him. I could hear it on the roof of my car; whatever it was, it was slicing holes and rips all over on the back of the car, and then it started moving closer to the front."

"What had it looked like?"

"I don't know, Mandy…it was metal… silver, shiny…it was like it was made of a bunch of sharp claws and knives and needles…" he was at a loss for words. So was I, actually.

"…And it was jumping all over the top of your car…?"

"Mandy!" he gruffed.

"Sorry, it's just-"

"It's just insane! Right? Well, you asked, and I told you it would be!"

"Look, I hadn't meant it that way," It was true; I hadn't meant to say anything at all, even though it was what I was thinking. "Is that everything you can remember?"

Silence. "No."

Awww, geez.

"I remember that the car was spinning, and I couldn't get it to stop. I think I saw the Porsche right next to me, and everything slammed to a stop, and I hit my head on the window."

So, that's where his big bruise and cut had come from. Probably where he got the concussion, too. "Ok…"

Tony rushed through the last of the explanation, "The next thing I knew; I couldn't see the other two cars, and… I think I was being lifted up in the air. I mean, I could see the road under me, and then this weird green wall of light went through the car, front to back. Everything started caving in around me. The steering wheel was being pushed into my ribcage, and the roof was coming down on my left shoulder, so I had to lean to the right to keep from getting crushed. And then I can't remember anything."

The nurse must've been right about all that concussion stuff. Still, it was kinda weird how his story matched up with the descriptions of the damaged car and his own injuries.

"Mandy?"

"Uh, sorry, you kinda lost me back with the green light…"

"Mandy…" he sounded disappointed, as if he had wanted me to believe what he had said. "Look, I know everyone is gonna laugh it off as being the concussion and amnesia and stuff, but… I think… no…I know that's what happened."

"Tony, it couldn't have. According to you, there's a psycho-cop out there with some kind of machine that has spikes all over it that he sicks on other law officers. Plus, there's something out there that is big enough to pick up a car and crumple it like paper; oh, yea, and there's a floating green light. Trust me, Tony, it wasn't real. According to you, the bad guy"

"Alright, forget everything I said, except for the razor-disks flying out of the guy's car. Mandy, I **know** that happened; if you don't believe me go check out the car in the morning."

"Tony-"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. I called to talk to Lily. Can you put her on?" There was no arguing with him; besides, what's the point in arguing with a slight mental case anyway? It was the concussion talking, not Tony.

"Yea, just a sec."

I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, careful of the rumpled lump of blankets on the left cushion. Turning off the unwatched TV set, I gently lifted up the corner of the purple blanket. Lily was curled up in a little ball, the blankets completely covering her body and face. Her strawberry blonde curls were stuck to her sweaty neck, and her face was a mess from tears and a drippy nose. Poor kid.

"Awww, honey," I said, wiping her face with a tissue. "Everything's fine now. Your daddy wants to talk to you."

Bleary eyes came to life as she reached for the receiver and brought it to her ear. "Daddy?"

I sat and listened for a few minutes as the little girl chattered and burbled away to her doting "Daddy"; she really was the cutest thing around. Her happiness faded and her mouth turned pouty, when she said, "Noooo, stay Daddy. I want you," adding emphasis on the last word. Similar complaints came forth until I took back the phone.

"It's ok, Tony; I'll take care of her. You just get some sleep, alright?"

He sighed, "No, just put her in bed and give her back the phone."

"But, To-"

"Just do it, Mandy. You need to sleep, too."

I picked up the four-year-old and took her upstairs to my room. Placing her under the sheets, I handed her the receiver, once again.

"Daddy? OK…and you'll still be there on the phone?... All night?...Promise?...OK, Daddy. Night-night."

I paused in the doorway, and watched her for a little while. Lily's eyes were still open, but they were starting to droop. She still held the phone to her ear, but she was visibly relaxing from earlier. He was going to stay on the phone with her all night, even if it was just so she could hear him breathing.

Minutes passed and then, "Daddy? Are you still there? ...OK. I love you, Daddy… Night-night."

I spun away from the door and stumbled down the stairs clumsily; suddenly, I felt the weird urge to weep. My chest was burning; I just had to get some fresh air.

The crickets were chirping softly outside and a gentle breeze blew my hair. It was so peaceful, as if the night had no idea what the day had held. I sucked in a deep breath of air and started padding down the sidewalk in my bare feet and pj's. I would only walk down to the corner, and then back; that would be enough time to get in control of my emotions.

Stuff like this wasn't supposed to happen, especially not around here. Maybe, people got caught in life threatening situations out in the real world, but not here in the Grove. Not where people were supposed to be safe. Not in my little world made of china and crystal.

I rubbed the cool chill off my arms, wishing I had brought a jacket. Something didn't feel right; the skin on the back of my neck prickled, and I looked behind me. Nothing. There was nothing there. Yet, I had the odd feeling that I wasn't alone.

Walking a few more steps, I looked over my shoulder, again. Nothing. The streetlamps provided poor lighting, but from what I could tell I was completely alone. In the dark. At night. I had to get back to the house. Oh, why had I even left in the first place? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

I turned around and started walking back, back to safety. I hadn't gone more than seven steps when a nagging voice in the back of mind spoke up. _Look behind you._

The word 'paranoid' crossed my brain; I had just been walking in that direction like five seconds ago, and there was nothing there then. I looked down at the ground and counted the cracks in the sidewalk as I walked over them. Strange… I could see my shadow stretched out before me. There wasn't another lamp for fifteen yards; I was out of its aura. _Look behind you. _

So I did.

As soon as I glanced backwards, I was blinded when a car's brights flashed on, not six feet behind me; I shrieked, startled, and fell to the ground. Raising my arm to shield my eyes, I couldn't see a thing except to know that I had slipped off the side of the curb and was now sprawled on my backside in the road, a car's headlights staring me down.

Seconds passed, and then red and blue lights started flashing on the top of the vehicle.

My body relaxed, "Joe, is that you?"

No response.

"Joe?"

"GET UP." _It was really loud and deep, and almost like it was yelling, but not quite. It didn't sound human; it was more like a barbled, computer system. _Tony's words came to mind; they had described in detail what I had just heard. "GET UP!" It came a second time; I scrambled to my feet in fear.

The brights flicked off, only to leave two smaller headlights shining on me. I could see the vehicle clearly, now. It was the black and white cop car from yesterday morning; the driver behind the wheel had large sunglasses hiding his eyes. It was Tony' cop.

His words came back unbidden, and a queasy feeling coiled in my gut. _Alright, forget everything I said, except for the razor-disks flying out of the guy's car. Mandy, I __**know**__ that happened. _

"WHAT IS YOUR RECOGNITION CODE?" It was a demand not a question, and I didn't know what he meant by it.

"I'm sorry, I don't-"

"WHAT IS YOUR NAME?" The unknown voice blasted and the car sped forward a few feet.

I backed up and placed both hands on the hood of the car in an attempt to stop it. "Amanda!" I screeched, "Amanda Baites!"

"WHERE IS HE?"

"Where is who?!"

The car rolled forward, again, "I CAN SENSE HIS PRESENCE HERE. WHERE IS THE AUTOBOT HIDING?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"DON'T TEST ME!" I could see the driver's arm snaking out his window, a black object in his hand. Oh God, it was a gun.

"I KNOW IT WAS YOU IN THE HUMAN'S CAR TODAY; I RECOGNIZE YOUR DNA PATTERN. THE AUTOBOT PROTECTED HIM, AND NOW YOU RETURN THE FAVOR. WHERE IS HE?!"

The gun was pointed straight at me, and I had no clue what he was talking about. Tears of fear were streaming down my face. "I don't know! I don't-"

To this day, I don't know where the Porsche came from, but I know I owe him my life. Right when I thought the policeman was going to shoot me, the tiny sports car whizzed in from out of nowhere and slammed into the back of the officer's vehicle. I quickly slid onto hood of his car and vaulted off onto the other side, running towards the closest house I knew of. It took me close to thirty seconds to get to the front door on account of the fact that I tripped over the children's sandbox while cutting through their yard. "Sean! Linette!" I shouted, pounding on the oak door, "Open up! Please!" I could hear squealing wheels and grinding metal behind me.

It took a few minutes of pounding before Sean opened the door, a baseball bat gripped in both hands. His brown hair was tussled, and he wore his bath robe and slippers, "Mandy?! What the blazes is-"

"There's a cop, and he's trying to kill me!"

"Calm down, Mandy!"

"No, I'm not going to calm down! He was threatening me with a gun! And the other guy came and hit him, and their out on the street killing each other with their cars!"

"Mandy, Mandy, Mandy! Shhhh, shhh," Sean put his hand on my shoulder, trying to quiet me. "Mandy, listen."

"You're going to hear exactly what I told you-" ...Except for now, because there was nothing to hear. The night was dead quiet, except for my ranting.

I yanked him out of the house and pulled him towards the street by his fluffy sleeve.

"Mandy! Slow down, and watch out for the sandbox!" he reprimanded.

"Look, look, there just out here behind your trees…" I trailed off. There was nothing there. The street was completely empty, just like it had been before.

"There's nothing here, Mandy."

I ran out into the road and started crawling around on my hands and knees, searching for broken glass. Searching for anything.

"I swear, Sean, they were right here! I don't know where they went, but I know they were just here…"

Sean hunched down beside me, "Hey, just come inside, and I'll get you something warm to drink. Then, we'll give Joe a call."

Joe! That's right! Joe would know what to do.

"Mandy, what were you doing down here in the middle of the night?"

**A/N: Oh, man, guys! I am sooooo stoked about writing the next chapter. Mandy and Jazz finally meet, and I am so excited! Whistles a happy tune**


	4. Chapter 4

**10:24 a.m., Tuesday.**

"You look how I feel," Tony quipped as he approached his usual seat at the counter. His face was paler than usual, and there were raccoon circles around his eyes. He was late by a good four hours.

"No offense, but I think **you** look pretty awful, too. Any luck?" I was sagging tiredly over the cash register.

He shook his head in the negative, "Nope. Not a thing. I've sent faxes to all the police stations in the state, and all law officers have been accounted for. Nobody called in a speeding ticket for a silver Porsche, or any Porsche, yesterday, except for Tony. All our guys have made a clean sweep of the town and surrounding area, and we haven't seen anything suspicious, either. It doesn't make any sense. "

"Joe, there's gotta be a mistake." I hadn't gotten any sleep in over twenty-four hours, and I was starting to get a little crabby. I suppose that could be because my best-friend had been hospitalized and my life had been threatened (all in twenty-four hours), and we were both blaming our incidents on someone whose job it was to protect people, and add to the fact that no one could find said "protector". Yup, life was peachy.

I felt kind of bad for how early I had woken Joe up this morning; he hadn't gotten to bed until really late as it was, since he was at the hospital a large portion of the night, hoping that Tony would come out of it. Then, I had to call from Sean and Linette's house at some God-forsaken hour of the morning and ruin what little sleep he still had a chance of getting. Joe had been pretty nice about everything, though. He hadn't complained once.

"Mandy, we've checked and double-checked. No one has seen either of these two vehicles, except for you and Tony. Now, I talked to Tony this morning after he woke up, and he says that this cop was responsible for making him crash his car. He said the guy was throwing things at him and was trying to run him off the road. Now, we have to take into consideration that Tony might have a head case right now, and not everything he thought happened really did. Plus-"

"Wait… was that **all** Tony told you?"

Joe thought about it for a minute. "Well, yea. Should there be more?"

I was caught in between confusion and happy relief. Part of me didn't know why Tony hadn't told the sheriff everything that he remembered, but then another part was relieved because it made his story sound less crazy. If the Sheriff had heard about the little machine that was jumping on Tony's car or how the car was floating above the ground or the green light stuff… let's just say that Tony's credibility as a solid witness would have been nil. As long as both our stories simply pinned the cop with a bad guy sign, than there was a shot that Joe and everyone else would take us seriously.

"No, no, no…I was just curious."

"Oh."

"Did you tell him what happened to me?"

"You said you didn't want me to!"

"And I didn't! He has enough to worry about right now," I brushed off Joe's inquisitive look, "You know, getting back on his feet and all."

"Mmm-hmm."

"You believe what I said I saw, right?" If Joe wasn't on my side, I didn't know who would be.

"I…," Joe tried to search for words, "…believe. Yes, I believe." I wasn't convinced. "But, Mandy, there isn't any proof."

"Isn't a witness proof enough?"

"A witness is a testimony, and I said I believed you. But there needs to be evidence backing up and supporting the testimony. Now, we've crawled up down the street where you were, and we haven't seen so much as a piece of glass or plastic or even a measly skid mark-"

"Yea, I get it, I get it."

I laid my head down on the counter. Why had I even bothered coming to work this morning? No one would have blamed me for not showing up after last night…

I could hear Joe get off his stool and come around the other side of the counter and help himself to the coffee. I thought about telling him that he wasn't aloud back here by the cash register, but… awww, who was I kidding? What did I care? Truth was, he could get his coffee on his own as far as I was concerned; I had had it with waiting on people. Funny how I had never felt cheated in life until after Joe talked to me yesterday.

I'd had plenty of time during my sleepless night to think about our conversation. Ever since I was a little girl, people were always telling me that life was too short; you'd blink and it was gone. I'd always say that "I had forever." Suddenly, looking up at the booths of customers waiting for me to come and take their orders, forever seemed much too long. This is what I had to look forward to everyday, for the rest of my life. His orders. Her orders. Their orders. Not mine. Never mine. Ever.

Yes, I could leave if I wanted. And I would, too. I could go somewhere where there would never be a lack of adventure and new things would happen all the time. I didn't have to do this, anymore. The next time someone asked me to get them their breakfast or their club sandwich, I would tell them off-

"Excuse me, Mandy; we've been waiting for fifteen minutes. Can we order now?"

Here it was, my chance. I didn't even have to think about it. "Yea, sure thing."

Great. Just great.

It's just that I couldn't stand doing something out of the ordinary. I **had **to go to work; that's what I was supposed to do in the morning. It's what I had done every morning for the past five years. It was like a security blanket; it made me feel like everything was still normal and that everything would be ok.

I started laughing to myself as I grabbed a pen and pad of paper out of my apron. Who **was** I kidding? My eyes welled with unshed tears, but I couldn't stop laughing.

"What's with you?" Joe asked.

"Oh, Joe… I don't have a spine," I shook my head and stepped out from behind the counter. I couldn't cry now; I had to work. There was time enough for crying later. After all, I **did** have forever.

"What can I get you, Mrs. Jones?"

"Weeeeell, there's something wrong with this picture," Mrs. Jones tsked softly.

"Huh?"

"You, honey! Where's that beautiful smile you're always wearing? I need to see that smile; it always makes my day so much better."

Bad mood alert, "Yea? And who's supposed to make my day better?" Whoops.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind."

Jake and his boys slammed through the front doors creating the usual ruckus that kids tend to bring with them. Why did they have to hang out here? They were always **so** loud. It just wasn't my day.

"I want a car just like that! Did you check out the rims?"

"Dream on, Jake! You'll never see the load of money it takes to buy that kind of chick-magnet," Rob laughed.

Huh, looks like someone had a new car.

A new car!

"Hang on a sec, Mrs. Jones!" I held up one finger to indicate that I would be back. I ran up behind the boys, grabbing the back of Jake's collar and yanking him backwards.

"What kind of car was it?!"

Jake reached up to massage the front of his neck after making a strangled choking noise. "What the heck is the matter with you, Mandy? You practically ripped my-"

"Jake, what kind?!" I hissed shaking his shoulders.

He brushed my hands off, "I don't know! Some kind of fancy sports car; it was sort of a grayish-silver, I think."

"Where'd it go?"

"It turned into old man Harvey's driveway."

"Are you sure?"

Jake scowled, "Naaaww, I made that part up!"

"Jake, you and your friends go sit down. Whatever you do, don't leave until Joe and I come back!"

"Wait! Where're you goin'?"

"I'll explain when we get back, just don't leave!"

Joe was slumped over the counter taking a nap; poor guy had fallen asleep in less than two minutes. He was getting a little too old for this sort of thing… but, it really couldn't wait!

"Joe, wake up! Joe," I prodded and poked impatiently until he blinked his eyes stupidly and glared up at me like I was filth.

"Joe," I whispered, "he's back! The kids just saw him turn into Harvey's! If we leave now, we can get him. It's a dead-end, so there's nowhere for him to go!"

"The cop?"

"NO! The Porsche!"

"Tell me again why I brought you?"

"Because I'm the only one who's seen this guy, and you need to go after the right person."

"Seeing as there's only one silver hot-shot in town, and I couldn't possible mistake him for anyone else-"

"I'm going with you, and that's final."

Joe sighed, "And what are the rules, again?"

"I'm supposed to sit in the car and tell you when I see him. I'm not allowed to leave the car. And I'm not allowed to offer advice or do anything without asking you first."

"That's right."

Jeepers, Joe could be one stiff dictator. "You know, I don't think we need to be afraid of him."

"And why is that?"

"Well, whoever he is, he saved my life."

"Sorry, Mandy, but all I know about Mr. Pretty Wheels is that he was running from two police; one of them ended up thrashed and the other one he ambushed."

"Are you going to arrest him?"

"Gotta find him first."

The vehicle jostled on its way down the old gravel driveway. It technically was Hickory Road, but only one person lived on it so we just said it was his super-long driveway. It ended in a cul-de-sac where Harvey's shanty was still barely standing; Harvey's job had been owning the town's junkyard. There was old farm equipment and house appliances and furniture **everywhere. **Did I mention that Harvey died over ten years ago? Yea, all the junk had kind of piled up in his absence…heck, Harvey had never really been good at his job, so things had been piling up for decades.

Joe parked the car by an old tractor and stepped out. "Now, stay here; I'm gonna check out the house."

I followed the rules until I saw Joe pull out his gun and enter the rickety old shack. I slid out of the car and shut the door behind me. It was pretty creepy; I remember sneaking down there at night with my friends when we were in high school. We'd sit around in a big circle with our flashlights, telling ghost stories and trying to freak each other out. I was usually one of the first to bail out and go home.

The front door creaked open and the air inside smelled musty and dank. "Joe?"

"Blast it all, Mandy! I told you to stay in the car," Joe stomped out of the kitchen area, clearly annoyed.

"I didn't want to be by myself. Did you find anyone?"

"Nope, no one's here. Not for years."

"Jake said he was sure the guy came down here; the car's gotta be in one of the old garages or sheds 'cause it wasn't parked outside. Even if the guy's traveling on foot now, the road ends here, so he would've had to leave his car."

"Well, then come on; let's check it out. But you had better stick with me, young lady."

Our search was fruitless for a while, and the only thing of interest that we found was my Dad's old, blue lawnmower. He had taught me how to drive on that thing; I didn't even know he had trashed it.

"Hey, Mandy, come look in here with me," Joe heaved hard against a sliding door to one of the last untouched garages. It rumbled aside and opened to a fairly empty space.

"Joe! Look! There it is," I ran inside and up to the newly waxed vehicle, neatly tucked away in the back corner. I rubbed the shiny hood, "This is it; I'm positive."

Joe came up and whistled, "Sure is an expensive car. Mandy, are you sure this is the one?"

"Huh? Of course."

He got down on his knees, "No dents. No scratches. You say he rammed into the cop? There ought to be something here indicating a collision, but there's nothing."

"Do you think he could've gotten it fixed already?"

"…I don't like this. Come on, let's go."

"Where're we going?"

"Gotta call the station. If the guy is trying to escape on foot, then we should be able to catch up pretty easily, but I'm not going to try doing this all by myself. Definitely want back-up for this one."

I followed Joe out of the garage and turned right to go back to his car. "Do you think he's dangerous or-"

"This ain't yo crib." The unfamiliar voice came from behind me, and, grabbing hold of Joe's arm, I spun around, screaming bloody murder. My fear turned to shocked surprise, however, and I brought my hand up to my chest in an attempt to calm my rapid breathing. Beside me, Joe lowered his gun; how had he reacted so fast?

Joe scuffed the dirt with an irritated kick, "Tony!! What the hell are you doing out of the hospital?! You practically gave me a heart attack!"

Tony was leaning nonchalantly against the inside of the open garage door. I swear to you, he had _**not**_ been there when we walked out. Tony's head tipped to the side as if he didn't understand Joe's reprimand. That's when I noticed the trickle of blood coming from above his left eye.

"Oh good Lord, Tony! You've ripped your stitches! You're bleeding, again!" I walked towards him, "Why are you here? You should be at the hospit-"

"Get away, Bitch! You don't know me."

I stopped dead in my tracks, hands resting on my hips, "EXCUSE ME?! What did you just call me?" Tony never talked like that. Ever.

"You heard me. This ain't yo hood; now git."

"Ummm, it's not exactly yours, either," What in the world had gotten in to him?

Joe stepped in between Tony and I and gently pushed me away a few steps. "Do you remember me, Tony?"

His head clicked to the side, again, regarding Joe. "Should I?"

Joe held up his hands in a show of friendliness. "Look, we aren't here to hurt you. We just want to know how you got here. You've got some bad injuries and," Joe's eyes squinted, "…Tony, what happened to all the scars on your face? They're all gone…"

I peered around Joe and stared at Tony. Joe was right; Tony's face was completely healed, except for the cut above his eye. And even that wasn't right either. I stood up on my tip-toes and whispered in Joe's ear, "Joe, look at the blood. It's not moving."

From the size of the gash and the thickness of the stream of blood, it should have been running freely down the side of his face and neck. Instead, it was lying completely still on the top of his cheek bone, halfway down his face. It was like the movement had been put on pause. Joe noticed it, too.

"I don't care what you people want, but you better git goin' before you have some real trouble on y'hands."

"You think he's got amnesia?" I whispered to Joe.

"And thinks he's from the ghetto? Beats me…" he groused, speaking out of the side of his mouth to keep Tony from hearing. To Tony, "I'd hate to leave you here all alone; why don't you come with us for a-"

Tony's head snapped to the right, looking over our shoulders and down to the road. "Barricade," he hissed. "Please, go," the demand was gone from his voice, being replaced by a sense of troubled urgency.

"Barricade?" Joe was puzzled, "No, no, no, there isn't a police posse waiting down there to grab you; I promise! Just trust- "

"Joe?" I elbowed him in the side, "I think someone's coming." There was a large cloud of dust rising over the abandoned cornfield, which shielded our view of the road; the sound of an engine and grinding gravel confirmed my statement.

Tony growled in frustration and stepped forward, "This is a _**really**_ bad time, so why don't you just come on by later, ok? Great, now see ya."

"Mandy what are you doing?" Joe was exasperated.

"What does it look like I'm doing?!" I paused in my climb up the nearest scrap pile, a mixture of old wood, shingles, bricks, clay, and other such building refuse. Pulling myself to the top of the heap, I screened my eyes from the sun with a hand, "We can't see the road from down there, and I don't want to walk all the way back to the car to find-"

" 'See ya' means **GO**!"

"YEA, we know, _Genius_! Jeepers, give the guy a head injury and he turns into the most abnox-," the cloud of dust moved all the way to the far edge of the field, and turning out of the haze and into view zoomed a black and white state trooper's car. "Oh my gosh! Joe, it's the cop!" I spun around and took a nose dive down the twelve foot rubbish heap.

"Come on, Tony! We gotta get back to the car!" I heard Joe yell.

Dragging myself off the ground, I could see Joe's gun back in his hand, and I held my hand out Tony. "I know you don't understand, but this guy's really dangerous and we've gotta go, now!"

Tony took a step backwards, "You two go; I'll hold him off."

"Whaaaaaattt? You don't even have a gun! Spare me the heroics!" I rushed towards him.

"Just go!"

"We're not leaving without you!" I said, reaching out for his arm.

"Bitch, I said don't touch-" my hand grasped at his wrist, but, instead, went right through his arm, my clenched fist swiping through his side and into his stomach. "Oh my God!" Joe swore behind me.

"Ugh!" I screamed, ripping my arm away as if I had been burned. It was like I had merely put my hand through air. I stumbled backwards, tripping over pieces of debris; I would have fallen if it hadn't been for Joe snaking an arm around my waist and supporting me. We watched in horror as Tony…fizzled. I mean, his entire body shifted in different directions like a tv channel with bad reception.

Tony looked down at his body, "Damn," he hissed, before disappearing entirely. My mouth dropped open in shock; if I had had control over my bodily functions, I might've… done something, but as it was I couldn't. It was a good thing Joe had kept his wits about him.

His hand gripped my upper arm and he jerked me around, "Mandy, run!" Joe half-sprinted, half-dragged me through the maze of junk mounds, all the while I kept looking behind, expecting to see Tony reappear.

"The car's over there!" Joe pointed at the brown vehicle, parked at least 100 yards away, and we continued to swerve and maneuver our way through the dump, jumping over smaller objects and dodging bigger ones.

The destination was 50 yards away. I could hear the sound of squealing brakes and clanking metal. "Where's the cop?!" I yelled, smashing into an overturned garbage can and faltering. Joe seized the back of my shirt and continued to haul me towards his car.

"Keep moving!" he hollered over the ruckus.

25 yards. Joe reached in his back pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

15 yards. He pressed a button on the keypad, and the cars headlights flashed in acknowledgement.

10 yards. We dashed out of the junk zone, and, as if on a cue, a large robotic foot slammed down on the top of the brown car, squishing it like a bug. My gaze followed from the mechanical foot to the leg, and then on up to the biggest robot I had ever seen. It was made of a black metal, and I vaguely recognized that there were tires on the arms.

"Holy shit!" Joe skidded to a stop before whipping me around and yanking me back into junk yard. "Get back! Get back! Get back!"

I looked over my shoulder and shrieked. Whatever kind of monster it was, the gigantic mech was lumbering after us, catching up with every stride.

"Mandy, look out!" Headed straight towards us, and plowing through a mother load of rubbish, was the silver Porsche. And it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

There was nowhere to run. We were walled in on both sides by tall piles of rubbish that might've taken up residence in our own houses at one time; to the front, we had some crazy guy racing his car straight at us, and to the back, an enormous robot. Joe pushed me face-first down on the ground and threw his body over mine, covering my head with his arms. My fingers scratched into the dirt, clenching helplessly at the earth. Through a crack in Joe's arms, I watched powerlessly as the Porsche sped ever closer and closer. The ground was shaking from the force of the giant's footfalls

When it was but a scant 15 yards away, the car launched from the ground; the wheels tucked under, the hood popped up and then sucked inwards, gears and levers twisted and shifted, as the car seemed to turn itself inside out. In a manner of seconds, it was in the shape of a man, much like the other robot only smaller, and was soaring over our heads.

There was a deep rumbling noise, like a chuckle, and then the voice from last night, "JAZZ!"

Everything went silent for a moment, like the calm before a storm, until a thunderous crack reverberated the ground beneath me. And then, Joe was off me, clutching the back of my uniform, again, and heaving me up to my feet. "GO!"

I had enough time to glance up and see the silver mech latched onto the black one's arm and shoulder, bringing up a roundhouse kick to the black's face.

"Did they do that last night!?" Joe yelled.

"No!"

"What the hell are-"

"JOE, what is **that**?!" I pulled away from his grip and pointed in front of us to where a miniature, silver robot was scurrying over the junk piles. _It was metal… silver, shiny…it was like it was made of a bunch of sharp claws and knives and needles…_ Oh God.

"Joe, shoot it!"

I didn't have to tell him twice; he slid to a halt, aimed, and fired off five rounds before I had time to think. All the bullets hit, and the robot tipped off the top of the mound and rolled aimlessly down the side, falling behind my Dad's lawnmower.

I backed up against the opposite side of the path as Joe inched forward towards the heap, gun raised. "Did you kill it?" I asked warily; I was shaking all over from nerves.

There was no movement. He nodded slowly, "Yea… yea, I think so."

I ran back to him and grabbed his arm, "Come on, let's go!"

"Yea," he said, frowning and grasping my hand.

"Come on," I repeated, pulling him.

Just then, the nasty little thing jumped up from behind the mower and landed atop it. "Mandy!" Joe pushed me aside, just as several disks came whizzing from the robot's chest plate. My world dropped at the sickeningly soft thuds made when the razor edges penetrated flesh. Joe fell to his knees, three disks embedded in his abdomen, one more near his collarbone.

"Joe!" I screamed, rushing over to his fallen body.

"Duck!" someone yelled.

In a flash, I slid to the ground as the remains of Joe's crumpled car flew through the air, right past my head, and pinned the horrible, little robot against an old refrigerator. For now, it was trapped beneath the car's weight.

"Joe," I whispered, wiping the beads of perspiration from his pale face, "Come on, Joe, stay awake. Stay with me. Please, I need you!" My hands flickered over his chest in hysteria not knowing what to do in a medical situation. He had lost so much blood already. Gripping the blade near his collarbone, I placed my other hand on his shoulder for leverage and pulled. The metal disk came out rather easily, and I whimpered as Joe's eyelids fluttered open in shock and pain.

"Mandy…" he gasped.

I placed both my hands on top of the bloody wound and pushed down with all my might, "It's ok, Joe," tears freely falling from my eyes, "Everything's going to be ok. I promise. Just stick with me. Ok?" I cringed as another large chunk of debris soared through the air and hit a pile nearby.

Joe made a strangled, gurgling noise from the back of his throat before he leaned to the side and started coughing uncontrollably. I curled my arm under his shoulders and tried to tip his head forward, but was horrified to see red liquid spurting from his mouth with every cough. Finally, he relaxed in my arms.

"Mandy," came the rasping voice. Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Swiping the tears from my eyes with the back of a dirty hand, I responded, "Yea? I'm here. Everything's ok."

He shook his head slowly and struggled to bring his right hand up to his chest. After a moment of labored movement, he laid his gun there and, bringing my bloody hand away from his wound, placed it over the gun. "Run…"

My entire face crumpled and I shook my head violently, "No, no, no! I'm not leaving you here! I'll get you out of here and to the hospital, I promise. I'm with you, all the way."

Joe looked down at where the metal was embedded in his stomach; his whole body began to quiver wildly, his eyes wide. "No, Joe! Don't look at it!" I leaned him back down on the ground and gripped the sides of his face, heedless of the explosions coming ever closer to us, "Joe! Talk to me! Come on, I need you!" Joe's eyes glazed over, as if he were looking right through me. He drew in one last shuddering lungful of air, and let it out in long rasp. The muscles in his face sagged, and his eyes stared up, unseeing.

"Joe!"

An explosion of some kind sent the large silver mech flying into view and crashing into a wall of junk about forty yards away. As it maneuvered back to its feet, it looked down the lane and saw me hovering over Joe's lifeless body.

"Aww, come on, Lady! Just git outta here!" he hollered exasperated.

In terror, I jumped up, placing the gun in the pocket of my apron, and started pulling Joe's body down the path.

"Lady, just leave him!"

My feet shuffled faster when the larger, black mech reared its head over the junkyard and saw me.

"Aww, shit!" the silver mech yelled. Quickly, it had transformed back into the familiar form of the fancy sports car and was racing towards me. I moved closer to the wall as it veered to my side, the door popping open.

"Get in!"

I tried to drag Joe's heavy body closer to the car, but all my energy was gone.

"Let him go!" the car blared.

"No!" I shouted. "I can't leave him. He needs a doctor!"

"It's too late for that; he's already gone!"

"No!" The ground beneath my feet was pulsating, again, and I looked up to see the black mech barreling toward us at top speed. My body went into shock, and all I could do was just stand there gaping.

From behind, a large hand wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground. I shrieked in fear as I was brought face-to-face with two giant, blue orbs. "We have to go now!"

And then, he tossed me into the air.

Yes, truly. For about five seconds, I was airborne with nothing holding me. And then, suddenly, my butt and back plopped into a leather seat; my knee jarred upwards and smacked into a steering wheel that had appeared out of nowhere, and, as my whole body bounced off the seat, my arms, which were curled around my head, collided with the interior roof of a car. My teeth clattered and clenched as the vehicle jarred its way through a bumpy landing and continued to speed out of the junk yard, down the gravel road, and away from the monstrous mech.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. The robot had just transformed **around** me. He had timed things perfectly so that I would be inside the car at the right moment.

"We've got to go back!"

No answer.

"Please! Joe needs help; I can't just leave him there! He'll die if I don't-"

The radio panel lit up and, where the name of the current song and artist playing would be displayed, blue letters appeared, one at a time like typing on a computer.

_No_, it read.

I grabbed at the door handle, but it wouldn't budge, "Let me out of the car!"

_It's too dangerous to go back._

"I don't care! That thing wasn't even after me; it was after you, right?! It was after you!"

_You're involved, now._

"I have to go back for Joe!"

_Joe…_

"Yes, Joe!"

… _Joseph Riley… husband to Rosemary Riley… father to Michael, Stevie, and Carla Riley. Graduate of West Point Military Academy. Served in the armed forces for twenty-three years. Retired in 1999 and became the sheriff of Cottage Grove…_

How could he possibly know all this? "Yes, that's Joe! We need to turn around and-"

_Status: Deceased._

My stomach reeled; no, no that couldn't be right. "No…you… you're wrong! He was just unconscious," I reached across the passenger seat and yanked at that door handle several times. My vision was turning dark around the edges, and I was having a hard time breathing. I punched the window twice, gaining nothing but a pain in my knuckles.

The car veered around a corner, and I barely recognized that we were on Rt. 6 headed out of town.

_Stop it._

"No! He was fine this morning! Everything was fine this morning!" I was **going** to escape from this vehicle, if I had to destroy it. I scrunched down on my back, the heel of my foot resting against the window, and began to repeatedly kick the glass. My breathing came in shorter and shorter puffs, sounding labored to my own ears.

_Calm down before you hurt yourself._

Tears poured out of shut eyelids and streamed into my hair. The stupid glass wouldn't even crack! I needed something sharp or-

The gun!

I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out the small black object. "Oh please, please, work!" Still laying across the seats, I braced my feet against the driver's door, aimed the gun at the window, and squeezed the trigger.

When the bullet hit glass, I screamed in shock as the piece of lead rebounded and shot into the leather seat right beside my head. The car swerved across several lanes of traffic and into the median before correcting itself and regaining its place on the road.

_That's IT!_

A foggy smoke blew through the air vents and into my face; I shied away, again clawing helplessly at the window, but it was too late. I had already inhaled a lungful of the thick fumes that were quickly filling up the cabin's interior. The world went from hazy to black.

**Thanks for the reviews!!**


	5. Chapter 5

The painful throbbing in my head was excruciating. Cracking open my eyes, I could barely see anything in the darkness; the soft but spiky texture under my palms mixed with the itchy sensation on the underside of my arms and the smell of earth belied that I was outside, laying face-down in a grassy area.

A soft breeze floated by, blowing my hair lightly; I could hear the crackle of leaves as they rubbed against each other overhead. How had I gotten here? The ache in my head grew three-fold, and I pressed my face harder into the ground, trying my best to drown out the unneeded sounds. My mind was a swirly mess of fog.

Blindly, I pushed off the ground and sat back on my knees; reaching out in front of me, I groped for anything that might be around. Nothing. I slowly crawled forward on my hands and knees, patting the ground here and there, looking for I knew not what. All I could feel was fluffy, slightly damp grass. I crawled for another ten or twelve yards before I finally touched something about two feet in front of my face. Rubbing my fingertips over the rough surface, I realized that the spindly object protruding from the ground was a young tree, so young in fact that I could wrap around its entire trunk with one hand. Lifting myself off the ground by guiding myself with the tree's base, I still couldn't see a thing. I brushed my hands through the foliage before turning a little to the left.

Cautiously, I moved forward a few steps and came in contact with another object. This time, it was a much larger tree. The base was much wider, and I hugged the coarse trunk tightly as I tried to shuffle around to the other side. Where **was** I?

Something creaked behind me. My head snapped around, but I couldn't make anything out. It was as if two pieces of metal had grated against each other.

"Hello?" I whispered. "Is someone there?"

Nothing.

Body shaking in panic, I tried to remember how I had gotten here. I drew a blank; the last things I could recall were talking to Joe that morning about the Chicago Bears' baseball game the night before and getting Tony some coffee when he came in to the café a little later. Hands vibrating, I sought to find something familiar and fought to find my way back to the smaller tree, tripping as I stumbled through the darkness. When my fingers grasped the thin trunk I let out a whimper of relief.

A light flicked on behind me, flooding the ground with light, and I let out a cry, frightened at my own shadow mingled with that of the tree's stretching ominously out before me. Keeping my grasp on the tree, I twisted my head back and was still blinded, only this time by a light that was pointing down on me like a large spotlight.

"That's far enough," a deep voice said.

I was shaking worse than the leaves on the tree I was clutching, "Who are you?" Shielding my eyes with a hand did nothing for my failed sight. The heat I felt from the spotlight burning down on my face did little to help my aching head and a queasy sickness curled deep in my stomach. A dizziness swept over me.

"How do you feel?" said the voice. It seemed familiar somehow, but I couldn't place it to any face I knew…

"Who are you?!" My half-hearted yell caught in the back of my throat, and I was on my knees in a matter of seconds, vomiting in the grass. There appeared to be very little in my stomach, as if I hadn't eaten in days, but I continued to dry heave for several minutes.

"You'll be fine; it's only the side effects of the gas. There won't be any permanent damage."

Shifting away from the bit of sickness left on the ground, I crawled a few more feet, but the spotlight followed me. The blazing whiteness shot through the very center of my brain, and I wished I could dig a hole in the dirt and disappear.

"What do they call you?" it asked.

"Amanda," I was finally able to grind out.

"You don't appear to be a threat…," it said disdainfully, "What information did you offer the Decepticon?"

"I don't know what you mean," my mind was screwing into painful knots as I tried to remember how I might've gotten in this sitation. "I can't remember," I whispered.

"What day is it?" the voice wouldn't leave me alone.

Even that question seemed rather difficult. "It's… Friday…the 23rd."

"No, Amanda," it corrected, "It is Wednesday the 28th."

That couldn't be right. I was missing five days of my life. "No, I have a dance show on Sunday evening-" Or did I? Had I already done that? A faint memory of doing a dance number with Stacey at Ethel's Pub came to mind. Tony was there, too; he was leaning against the bar talking to someone. My car wouldn't start. Meteor showers. The neighbor kids pulling a prank. What happened next?

"The law officer was hospitalized on Monday the 26th."

Law officer? Joe? … no… Tony! Yes, Tony had been in an accident! But, he was alright now. The police car stopped me in the street that night. The smaller car hit him. No one saw them but me. Joe didn't come for his coffee at 6:30. No… he was late; he had been looking for the bad cop. Then what, then what, then what?

I felt like was rooting around for buried treasure. I curled into a ball, covering my head with my arms in an attempt to block out the light. I was up to Tuesday morning. What happened next?

"You found me at the abandoned house. Barricade tracked you there. I told you to leave; I warned you, remember?" his constant nagging and dropping of hints grated on my nerves. I wished whoever it was would just leave me alone.

Abandoned house? The barricade? What abandoned house? The children came into the café. Harvey's house! The abandoned house… No one was there. No one. Except for Tony. Why was Tony there? He was behaving strangely. What was wrong with him?

The voice let out a sigh of frustration, "The Decepticon attacked you, remember?"

I didn't. No one had hurt me. Why would anyone try to hurt me?

"Joseph Riley was killed, do you recall that?"

Joe? Joe wasn't-

I felt as though a bucket of cold water had been doused all over my body; a chill ran down my spine. Joe's empty eyes stared back at mine from his life body. I could remember everything. My head snapped up, staring straight into the light, my eyes wide with fear.

It hmphed. "Ahh, I see it's all come back to you. Memory loss can also be a nonpermanent side effect."

I whimpered and tried to slither away, but that wretched spotlight trailed after me wherever I went. I felt helpless; perhaps, this was how lab rats felt. Somewhere in the darkness was a giant robot that could crush me at any moment.

"I take no offense at your reaction," said the voice coldly, "I'm not exactly thrilled about being saddled with you, either."

Finally giving up any attempt at escape, I leaned backwards, "Who are you?" It came out as a choked sob.

It did not respond.

"**What** are you?"

The light switched off. Panic rose inside me again; colorful dots floated around my dark vision. As long as the light had been on, I had been able to guess that the being was somewhere in front of me. Now, I could not tell anything.

I whipped my head around frantically, but the lights had destroyed what little night vision I had begun to gain the first time. The ground vibrated for a moment. I could hear shifts and creaks. Was he still in front of me, or had he moved to the left?

"You're breathing and heart rate has increased, again," said the voice, "Please, remain calm this time."

This only served to escalate my fears. He wasn't near me, that I could tell. How did he know about my heart?

"I would rather not have to use the gas this time around," he said, "I've already used it on you three times, and I'm afraid any more than that will leave you with permanent brain damage. Such minimum exposure shouldn't have caused you any more than drowsiness, but, contrary to what I was told, the human body is far more fragile than we were led to believe."

I scooted backwards a few inches, "Who is 'we'?"

A pause filled the atmosphere, and I wondered if I had even voiced the question out loud. "I cannot answer that."

"Where are we?"

"According to your Internet maps, we are just outside the city of Hallisburg."

I was slightly surprised. That was only two hours, tops, from my home. "How long have we been here?"

"Approximately thirty-three hours. Since early yesterday afternoon," he added.

That long? "I need to get back," I said quickly, hoping it came out as a request and not a demand.

"No," came the response, "You'll join your friend in death, if you go back. Besides, even if it wasn't too late to help him yesterday, it definitely is tonight." He had placed perfectly what I had in mind to do.

Tears filled my eyes once again, "No one knew where we were. What if they haven't come for him, yet? I can't just leave him there like that…" The thought of brave Joe lying face down in the dirt in the middle of nowhere, free territory to wild animals and birds like some dead dog that no one cared about, sickened me. "Please."

"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry; the aloof tone belied the fact that he didn't really car at all.

The other mech, the black one, the cop… He had been after this one.

"If you're scared of going back, that's fine; I'm not asking you to go. Just let me! Please!"

His lack of response made me wonder if I had angered him. Given my present circumstances, I realized that was not something I wanted to happen, but still…

"Can't," he finally replied.

I was getting desperate, "But, you can't possibly need me! What good am I?"

"Absolutely nothin', and that's the truth!" came the irritated reply, the accent from yesterday, which had remained vacant during this conversation, suddenly popped into his voice. The ground was vibrating slightly, again. Where was he?! Something, a lighter shade than the darkness surrounding me, leered in front of my vision.

Something wrapped around my waist and stomach and lifted up. I screeched as my feet dangled in mid air. I stopped moving and was held there.

Two blue orbs flared to life several feet away from my face. "Ya know, you don't seem to understand that I have yo best interests in mind, Bitch. I can't take you back, 'cause I gotta wait here, and I can't let you go back 'cause the only one who can help you is one of the ones we're **gonna** wait for. **Both of us.** After that, you're free to go anywhere you please."

The sight of what I knew to be two giant eyes staring into me was unsettling to say the least. "Help me with what?"

"Gotta remove the tracker."

"Excuse me?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

I was sooo bewildered. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Jazz in what short time remains of our acquaintance, Bitch."

His frequent reference to me as "Bitch" did nothing to make me feel safe. In my sheltered existence, that kind of talk was used only by druggies and convicts; not exactly the type of people you wanted to be strung up with. I squirmed and pushed against the large metallic hand that held me tightly. I just had to get away. I didn't like this Jazz at all. He was more than just a little dangerous.

"I'll be fine. He didn't care about me; I can remember that much. It was you; he wanted you."

"Damn straight, they don't care about you! They'll use for what little you're worth, a.k.a. finding me, and then you'll be a gonner. Ya know, for all I've done for you, you could at the very least just keep quiet and do what I say. I didn't want this to happen any more than you."

_All I've done for you. _"All you've done for me?" I rasped, "Every time you've made any appearance, something bad has happened! First Tony, and then Joe! All you've done for me?! If it hadn't been for you being around, that…that… that other thing wouldn't have been here either! It wanted you! All you've done for me? Lord save me from any more of your help. This is your fault! How do I know you're any different from that other one? You're probably one in the same. Let me go!" I twisted and wriggled more furiously than ever.

Something seemed to flash behind those crystalline blue eyes. I regretted my words just as soon as they had left my mouth; the hand encircling my waist contracted tightly, slowly squeezing down in a viselike grip. My arms hung limply at my sides, spazzing of their own accord when loss of air became a serious problem for me. My ribs ached horribly as they were pressed further and further inwards.

The orbs appeared to narrow, "How dare you! Don't ever, **ever**, put me on the same line as one of them! You have no idea what you're talkin' about," he hissed. "I'm nothing like any of them. Do you understand my words?!"

The choked airy noise that passed my lips was all the answer I could manage. The blue spheres grew wide in an instant, and the metallic claw loosened its grip immediately. "I-…It's just-…I'd never," he stuttered, clearly anxious. For the first time, his voice held a tone other than coolness; he truly seemed as if he were apologetic about something. Finally, he gave up trying to say whatever was on his mind.

"Look," he sighed, "…I know it's a long shot, but you're just going to have to trust me on this one."

And with that, Jazz turned his eyes from me and glanced upwards. He waited for a few moments before turning around and beginning to walk away from the spot with me still residing in his fist. The world remained black for several seconds, until we exited what must have been a tree line and stepped out underneath a star-studded sky. The bright moon cast a pallid glow over the silvery robot that held me a good twelve or so feet off the ground.

He began trudging up a steep hill after a short pause, and , stepping over an iron median bar, placed me down onto a paved and empty street. Peering over the median and down the side of the hill, I could see that we must have been hiding in a small glen down there, covered by a copse of trees.

I looked back to the tall mech, but he was facing away from me, staring up at the sky, again. My eyes flitted in the opposite direction down the vacant street and wondered how far I might be able to get if I made a break for it. Jazz's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"They're here. They've made it."

We waited, me clearly having missed something obvious and Jazz still staring transfixed at the sky. If I asked a question, would it anger him, again? No, I had better keep quiet.

"It's about time," he muttered. "I've been living on no news for weeks."

On the horizon, a spark began to glow faintly, growing larger by the minute. Eventually, the ball of light split off into four distinct meteors. I inched closer away from Jazz, who still paid no attention to me. I didn't know what those rock-shaped balls of fire really were, but it couldn't be good. If I could just get up the gumption to run…

"Stay where you are," Jazz still didn't face me. I swallowed nervously.

They were almost upon us, but Jazz appeared unfazed. I instinctively covered my ears as they passed overhead and cringed at the loud rumblings which caused the ground to vibrate. I watched in silence until they had disappeared from view. I looked over my shoulder at Jazz, but he was gone.

In his place sat the familiar silver car that had become a particularly bad omen in my life. "Get in," Jazz's voice came from inside the car where the passenger door had already popped open on its own.

I stepped back. What if I didn't? What if I took a chance and ran, instead? _He'd hunt me down in seconds. And probably kill me for disobeying. _But, did it matter whether he killed me now or…later? _The outcome would be the same._

"I think you know by now that even if you don't do what I say right off the bat, I still get my way, eventually. Why don't you do me a favor for a change and make life a little less painless for the both of us," he said.

I stayed put; I did not want to risk getting back in that car.

"I won't hurt you. I swear it."

But, he already had hurt me once. What if I made him angry, again?

The car seemed to sigh. "I'm sorry about before. I lost control,…. and it won't happen again. Please, just get in the car."

_I've never been much of a runner, and I'm very tired. Tops, I could make twenty yards. _Decision made, I slowly walked around to the passenger side and slid into the leather seat of my own accord.


	6. Chapter 6

"So what's the problem you wanted me to fix?"

Staring up, mouth agape, I wondered how in the world I could have gotten to this point.

When Jazz had driven into the fairly empty parking garage and I had seen a bright neon, yellow-green, ambulance-like vehicle parked near the back with its emergency lights flashing, I thought God had finally decided to give me a break and help out a bit. Finally, I was saved!...So long as I could get to them without Jazz noticing of course, which was probably a lot harder than it sounded.

The car had stopped, and my door had opened by itself again. "You can get out now," it was the first time Jazz had spoken to me in about an hour and a half, the entire time of which he had spent driving around and around and around the city, as if to kill time. "Just go over and sit in that corner. And don't move!" he warned.

That was ok with me because it would be easier to try and catch the medic's attention if I was outside anyway. However, as soon as I had stepped out of the car, Jazz transformed beside me, going back to his robotic appearance.

He had to hunch over to keep from hitting the roof. "Hey," he called out; it looked as though he was talking to the ambulance. "You have no idea how glad I am that you've finally made it!" his voice sounded happy for once, happy and relieved.

In shock and horrified disappointment, I was left watching as the ambulance, too, began to transform in front of my very eyes. "Aaaww man," I slumped to the ground, accepting my fate, "Another one? How many are there?!"

This robot was much larger and bulkier than Jazz; before he had reached his full height, his head and shoulders broke through the roof of the garage and disappeared from view. "Sorry, I should've thought about that before I picked a meeting spot," Jazz chuckled.

Cement and bits of rubble fell from the ceiling as the yellowish robot moved forward two steps, breaking a large hole in which he could move freely in. It sat down and bent forward, its head still sticking through the hole, but now it could peer down and see us. "No problem," he acknowledged Jazz, "It's good to see you, too. Optimus was starting to worry about how long it took to get here. So what's the problem you wanted me to fix?" I was somewhat surprised to hear that his voice held a soft tone; it was calm and almost kind, not in the least bit frightening.

Jazz jerked his thumb at me, "That."

The larger mech swiveled his head in my direction, big blue eyes grew even bigger. "Jazz," his voice sounded scandalized, "I thought **you** needed something fixed! What in the world are you doing with a human? Optimus isn't going to like this…"

"She got tangled up with Barricade and Frenzy one night. Frenzy put a tracker on her; I don't think she even knew he was behind her."

"Barricade and Frenzy? How'd she get involved with them?"

"Beats me. I think they thought she was linked to me somehow; I'm not sure why, I didn't hear the whole conversation. Unfortunately, she and I did wind up in the same place at the same time, again I don't know why, and Barricade must have followed her there when he couldn't find me himself. I suppose whatever crazy idea he had about her and I was just a lucky guess."

"That's odd," the unfamiliar robot cocked his head to the side, still regarding me, "So, what's she called?"

Jazz snorted, "She doesn't want me to know. When I asked her, she lied to me, said it was Amanda."

"That so?"

I scowled; I had never lied to him. "I am Amanda," I said through gritted teeth. It was the first time I had spoken, and the new mech looked slightly taken aback.

Jazz glared down at me, "Yea, of cou- " But he was cut off by his comrade.

"Well then, Amanda," it slowly set one hand gently down on the floor, palm facing up, "Come here, please. I just want to have a look at you; I won't do anything to hurt you, I promise." After my experiences with the first three robots, I was very surprised that this one was somewhat of an anomaly compared to them. He spoke with such sincerity and gentleness that I just couldn't believe he was the same as them. "I'd like to help you, really; I'm what you might call a doctor… of sorts. By the way, my name's Ratchet."

For whatever reason, I believed him. He continued to speak softly to me until I eventually walked forward and stepped tentatively up onto his hand. "There's a good girl," he said. "Now, Jazz, where'd you say he put the tracker?"

"Don't know the exact location, but since she was faced away from him it would have to be in her back somewhere."

Ratchet lifted me up, even with his chest plate, and asked me to turn around. I did so, careful not to trip and fall off his hand. I was facing in the direction of Jazz; his pose screamed of arrogance as his structure leaned smoothly against a cement pillar. I was determined not to acknowledge him.

A tingling sensation started at the top of my head and slowly traveled down to my neck; I wished I knew what Ratchet was doing. "Ummm… Ratchet?" I asked quietly, "What is it exactly that you're looking for?"

"The tracker? Well, it's a little metal device… something like your computer chips, I imagine. It is placed inside the body of someone and emits a signal that allows the owner to always know its location. Your government has things like this, but not quite as advanced."

"So that big black robot and the little silver one that killed Joe… they can find me whenever they want?" The thought didn't make me happy.

Jazz shifted his footing, "Yes."

Ratchet's soothing voice came from behind as that odd tingling went across my shoulder blades, "But you don't have to worry about a thing. You're very safe here with us. And I'm sure you know by now that Jazz would make any sacrifices necessary to keep your wellbeing intact."

I couldn't help the quelling glare that I sent at Jazz. _Yea Right!_ But, Ratchet had spoken with such sincerity and confidence that I knew he believed his words. He thought he had spoken the absolute truth. _They must not have been acquaintances long._

"It's weird, though; I don't remember when it happened. I mean, I can't remember feeling any pain at all, if it was the night I'm thinking of. He put the tracker on me the night you showed up, right?" I didn't feel like talking to **him**, but that's what it would have to take to get some answers.

"Yes, and you wouldn't have felt anything. Frenzy is really good at what he does; it's lucky for Barricade that he's got Frenzy with him. Barricade can screw things up royally when he's working by himself."

I scowled, "Why couldn't you tell me any of this before?"

Jazz's head tilted to the side, "Would you have listened? Let's face it; you're one of the most unstable and unpredictable creatures I've ever met. You completely freaked when I tried to tell you about Joseph Riley; how was I to know how you would react when you learned that there was an explosive device inside your body?"

My entire body jerked and stiffened. "Explosive? What do you mean explosi-"

"Jazz," Ratchet's voice was hard and scolding, "That's enough."

He shrugged, "Well, if she's so keen on hearing the truth…"

My throat constricted painfully and my voice shook from panic, "Ratchet? What's he talking about?" I looked over my shoulder, but quickly turned back again when Ratchet made an irritated clicking noise and said, "Don't be fidgety." I had seen a flat green stream of light coming from his eye and pointing at my back.

To Jazz he said, "Yep, I see it. It's in her lower back; looks like it's embedded right up in there by her spine."

Silence reigned for a few moments, and Jazz stared over my head at Ratchet, nonplussed. "So?" he said. "Just get rid of it."

"Jazz…," he sounded disappointed, "I'm too big; she's too small. If I go hacking around in there, I could cause her serious damage." Jazz almost said something, but Ratchet went on, "It's not like removing it from you or one of the others; if something went wrong, I could just repair you and you'd be fine. But with Amanda, anything I damage, unless it repairs itself naturally, will stay that way for the rest of her life. I'm talking about serious ramifications here."

Jazz didn't respond right away. "What kind of ramifications are we talking about?" he didn't sound like he really wanted an answer.

"Full body paralysis."

I spun around, almost losing my balance, and stared up at Ratchet in shock. I took a small step backwards, trying to edge away from him, my chest heaving. "Let me down."

Ratchet's face appeared to fall, "Amanda, I'm not going to hurt y-"

"Let me down, NOW!"

Cautiously, Ratchet lowered his hand down to the top of a nearby Suburban and I clambered off his hand and onto the roof of the vehicle. Jazz had turned his back on us, one hand still resting on the cement pillar; his shoulders had slumped a bit.

"Is that a worse case scenario?" he asked.

"Jazz, I can't do it! I can't…" Ratchet's voice was tortured, "I could kill her! I'm sorry, I just can't do it. I can't…"

Jazz stepped away from the pillar and sank heavily to the hard floor, rolling onto his back; his blue eyes extinguished in the dark. "I know."

Silence filtered back through the parking garage; the only sounds were the occasional clanging of old water pipes. Ratchet had folded his hands in his lap and was staring down at them miserably. Jazz lay motionless on the cold cement, looking up at the ceiling with dead eyes.

Who were they? For all that they appeared to be highly advanced robots, it didn't make sense to me how very **lifelike **they were. I mean, from what I had seen on tv, robots were made to perform a purpose and were programmed on how to act. But these two mechs before me seemed to have just as many human characteristics as I; except for how they looked of course. They could think one their own, make decisions, held knowledge on a variety of things, and their emotions, too…

"So, what are we going to do now?" Jazz still stared blankly at the ceiling.

After a pause, Ratchet said, "Well, I suppose that's up to Optimus now. We're going to have to take her with us and see what he thinks is best."

Jazz's head rotated to the side, and his eyes flamed back to life. "I really didn't want to do that. Isn't there… no, I 'spose not."

"Jazz, you didn't do anything wrong. None of this is your fault; she needed help, and you tried to rectify the problem. Optimus would have agreed with your decision. Why do you not want to get him involved? He's the Commander; he'll figure out a solution."

Jazz looked away again, shaking his head slowly, "You don't know what's been going on. It wasn't like I was some innocent by-stander that stumbled across her on accident. Stuff's been going down, and Optimus is gonna have my head. I've made errors, and this **is** my fault."

"What do you mean?" Ratchet asked, leaning forward, "Jazz, what's been going on since you got here?"

"Nothing good…"

Ratchet looked like he was scowling, "Is it Bumblebee? He's alright, isn't he?"

"The kid?" Jazz gave a self-deprecating laugh, "Oh yea, he's fine. He's handled himself like a true champ; I'm really proud of how he's done. Did all his research like Optimus told him to do, and he got in with the human boy in record time." Jazz nodded his head and in a serious tone, "Yea, I'm real proud of the kid. He's handled himself and his mission better than I have."

"Where is he now?"

"Last I heard, he's got the boy with him; he'll be sending coordinates for a rendezvous around here shortly. Said he got in a bit of trouble earlier this evening, but he took care of the problem."

"Well, if he's alright then what's the matter?" Ratchet sounded worried and impatient. "Jazz, talk to me!"

"I don't answer to you," Jazz's voice had gone icy, again. Ratchet straightened up in surprise.

"What?" his voice was soft, laced with hurt. "Why are you acting like this? Why are you so upset? It's not like you…"

Jazz didn't respond.

"Are you feeling well?"

Slowly, Jazz folded his arms over his chest and turned his head back to Ratchet, shaking it dejectedly. "No."

"Tell me what's wrong."

Jazz shook his head more furiously, "No." Ratchet made that irritated clicking sound again, but Jazz asked him a question which seemed to make the larger mech forget about everything else. "Where's Sideswipe?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, where'd he land? Where is he? When is he meeting up with us? I couldn't seem to get a hold of him through the Com. system…"

Ratchet looked completely taken aback, "What do you mean, 'where is he?'… Didn't you get Optimus' message weeks ago?"

Jazz sat up, placing his arms on his bent knees. He eyed Ratchet with scrutiny, "What message?"

Ratchet was at a loss for words, "Well…he, uhh…well, that is… Optimus… I mean, Sideswipe… he…well… Optimus sent him on a mission," he finally decided.

Jazz's eyes narrowed even further, "But, there were four pods: you, Optimus, Ironhide, and Sideswipe. That **was **Sideswipe?"

Ratchet looked uncomfortable, "Well…yea."

"Sideswipe's a warrior, Ratchet; why would Optimus send **him** on a mission? That's not his field. Bumblebee and I are more suited for that kind of thing. If Optimus was going to wait until they landed to send him out, why didn't he tell me to do it, instead?"

"…I'm sure he has his reasons for it."

"Well, I plan on hearing those reasons."

Ratchet shifted uneasily, "We better get going." He looked at me for the first time in what felt like forever. "Amanda, I know you don't understand, but I need you to come with me, now." How ironic…I'd heard something very similar to that a little while ago…

But there was a problem, and it wasn't that I was afraid of him. It was that I wasn't. This 'tracker' thing inside me, wasn't just a threat to me, but to them as well, so long as they were with me. I thought of Barricade; how he had come to me that night, threatened me, made me feel helpless. I thought of Frenzy; how he had killed Joe. And Jazz; how he said he did what was best for me, but didn't seem to care that Joe had been left behind with those horrible monsters. And then there was Ratchet; he refused to remove the tracker because it would cause me harm. But it would cause him harm, and those he was close to, if he did not. Why wouldn't he do what was best for him?

"Ratchet, why won't you remove it?" I hoped I didn't sound like I was complaining.

He didn't need to ask me what I was talking about. "Because I could hurt or even kill you."

It didn't make any sense. "But why, Ratchet? Why does it matter whether I get killed? I mean, what do you care?"

"I **do** care."

"But why?" I just couldn't understand why it mattered to him.

Ratchet looked from me to Jazz, once, twice, three times as if he was watching an invisible tennis volley. "Am I missing something here? Jazz?"

Jazz shrugged, "I don't know what she's talking about."

Ratchet glanced back to me, "We're here to help you people, Amanda. I promise. We'll protect you and those of your kind, whatever the cost." He was so patient and kind to me, and it only served to make me feel worse and more confused. "Do you doubt my sincerity?"

I wiped my hand under my nose and cleared away the tears that had fallen down my cheeks. "It's just that I don't know why you are being so kind to me. I just… after all that's happened… it wasn't something I expected…"

Ratchet looked back at Jazz before addressing me again, "Come on, I'll explain everything on the way."

Instead of getting up immediately, my focus had turned, once again, to Jazz who was struggling to lift himself off the floor. What should have been a simple action for him seemed to take an enormous amount of effort and groaning. Ratchet appeared to think so, too.

"Jazz? What's the matter?"

Finally standing on his feet, albeit swaying slightly, Jazz answered, "Nothing. I just feel really…drained."

Ratchet nodded, "I'm sure it's been a long couple of weeks." And with that, Ratchet transformed smoothly into the Search and Rescue ambulance from before. I wasn't surprised anymore when the side door opened on its own. Clambering inside, I made sure to fasten the seatbelt tightly.

The door swung shut and then Ratchet's voice, "You ready?"

"Mmm hmm," I mumbled.

Jazz flicked his hand at us, "You two go on ahead; I'll be with you shortly."

"Gotcha," said Ratchet, who went into reverse and then turned down an aisle where a big, red 'EXIT' sign hung at the end. It was weird being passed around from one machine to another. Not that I was complaining about my change in partners. Placing my hand on the glass, I turned and looked back at where we had left Jazz standing.

His fists were clenched in determination, and, after a moment, the bottom half of his body began to transform. Only the trunk and a portion of the back left side of the vehicle was completed before everything came to an abrupt halt. Jazz fell, careening forward; his chest and forearms cracking loudly on the ground. Ratchet flinched at the noise, but otherwise did nothing.

I didn't know what to think as Jazz clawed forward, the levers and gears of his former legs working frantically to complete the transformation. For once, he didn't seem like the tough guy who had it all together. I thought I should feel some sort of smug satisfaction at his dilemma, but for some reason I couldn't. His head twisted to the side as the lower region of his chest and one arm began to shift and transform; he seemed to be in a lot of pain. Could robots even feel pain? I realized that he was staring at us, and I quickly turned back to face Ratchet's windshield as we passed under the archway with the 'EXIT' sign and drove up a winding ramp.

"Ratchet? I think your friend needs help."

"He's got some major damage to several of his more vital systems."

"Well, are you just going to leave him there?"

"Nope." We pulled out of the parking ramp and onto the brightly lit city streets. Neon signs were flashing for restaurants and hotels and stores. For it being so late, there sure was a lot of night life here. The ambulance pulled to a stop by the curve and turned off. "It's my job to fix him, but I can't if he won't let me, and he's definitely not in the mood to ask for help, right now. I don't know why. I've never seen him so cold before. Has he been like this with you the entire time?"

I didn't really know to be honest. The entire time had consisted of me being scared out of my mind. People react and think funny things when they're scared; was it wrong to say that I had been harsh to me the entire time. Perhaps… but there were several times he had been. But had I accidentally provoked him?

"A good portion of the time."

"Hmmm," said Ratchet, "That's not at all like him. I don't want to push him, that'll only make things worse. I'll let him have the chance to go to Optimus and let them talk things out first. But, if he doesn't, I'll talk Optimus."

I didn't know who that was, but then I didn't know much about anything anymore. I didn't know what they were. I didn't know what country they came from. I didn't know what was in their programming. I didn't know how or why they had escaped from whatever lab created them. And I didn't know why no one was looking for them. They were huge! Someone had to be missing them…

"If he's that bad off why are we just sitting out here in the street?"

"Well, I figure we'll just wait for him to come out. Once he transforms into his car form he'll be fine for a while. He can regenerate energy better in that form. We'll just wait 'til he muscles through it himself."

It didn't make a whole lot of sense to me. But, sure enough, after several minutes of waiting, the silver car slid out of the garage and passed by Ratchet and I, continuing down the road without acknowledging us in any way.

"Didn't he see us?" I asked. Ratchet's form kind of stood out in a crowd.

"Yea."

"I don't get it. So, he would have told you off if you offered to help him, but he doesn't care that you waited around to make sure he was ok? He didn't get upset that you were kinda watching over him like a babysitter?"

Ratchet chuckled, "He'll pretend that he didn't see us and that we weren't there. And I'll pretend that I didn't realize he saw me. And he'll pretend that I thought I did a good job of hiding and got away with it. And we'll both never speak of it, again, pretending, of course, that nothing really ever happened."

My brain hurt.

"It's a silly game of course, but…how do you say it? 'It's a guy thing…'," said Ratchet before pulling out of the parking space and driving down the road.

_A guy thing?_


End file.
